


The Long Journey Home

by relaxovision



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), RE8
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Slow Burn, Sort Of, it is a winery, not an equal either, the lady is mean we'll have to do something about that, though the fluff will be delayed until way later, you're not a pet, you're not wearing a collar in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relaxovision/pseuds/relaxovision
Summary: You set out into a world changed by a pandemic, not knowing what you'd find. Instead they found you.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader, Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/You
Comments: 16
Kudos: 152





	1. Not Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regretfully_yours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regretfully_yours/gifts).



> *edit* I'm retroactively gifting this to regretfully_yours. Though this story has nothing to do with hers it was Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Except Me) that inspired me to start writing again.   
> I'm deeply saddened to see all her works gone and have to admit that it leaves me feeling empty. Still, I wish her well and I am grateful. If you have the means to reach out to her please let her know.   
> ____
> 
> I'm not one to explain my stories, but there's a few things I need to say before we start:
> 
> 1\. I don't care for Resident Evil. I've watched a let's play of RE7 and know that Ethan killed an old woman and her family. Suffice it to say, nothing of what I have to tell will be canon (probably).
> 
> 2\. Also, there won't be any insects coming from anybody's coochies.
> 
> 3\. This is a reader insert, but I'm taking some liberties with that concept: I'll be giving the protagonist a little more backstory. And I'm changing the usual [Y/N] to "Yuno", because that's how I prnounce it in my head anyways. It is still a placeholder so do with that what you like. Skin color, hair, facial features, etc, will be up to you.
> 
> 4\. I've started the first chapter when I didn't know how tall exactly Alcina is. She's still taller than 2m in my story, but not the whole 9 fucking 6f they revealed her to be canonically.
> 
> 5\. I have some chapters written in advance so you won't have to worry about that for a bit  
> (famous last words).

That day you set out on a hunt. Though it wasn't for game you didn't know yet that instead you'd be the prey.

It was a cold winter morning that you closed the door and turned your back to your home for good. You packed nothing but a few essentials: A towel. Some spare clothes. A toothbrush. One picture as a reminder not to lose your way. 

You had given away your goldfish the week before, and emptied your bank account. You said farewell to an abandoned neighborhood and didn't bother to leave a letter.

It is even colder where you wake now. Your gloves are gone, as is your jacket. Your head hurts and it makes it difficult to keep your eyes open. Still, you look around, and the first thought is with your bag. You cannot find it. Instead what you see is what looks to be a cell. You lie on a floor made of dirty cobblestone. The stains have different colors but mostly dark brown and red. You don't want to think about the implications. There's a metal shelf on one wall, empty bar from two candles that provide the only light in here. Thick bars seperate you from darkness. The ceiling is higher than you want to strain your neck to see.

There is no mattress, no sink, no toilet. You push yourself into a sitting position and wrap your arms around your knees. You can see your breath and your hands are shaking. You reach for your right temple and realise you're bleeding. You do not remember having an accident. 

The sound of footsteps, faint but getting closer, shake you from your thoughts. You inch closer to the metal bars but the darkness prevents you from looking very far. Before you can think about it you hear your shaky voice echoing through the halls: 

"Hello?"

There is no answer, but the steps are getting louder, and you hear a creaking like that of old door hinges, then a thud. Then there are more steps, several people, and a flicker in the distance. Before you can shout again a female voice makes you pause and listen, but you cannot make out her words. More creaking, a clang, something being dragged off. Though the steps never stop. They're definitely coming closer and as the creaking, the clang and the other sounds repeat themselves you push yourself away from the bars. You have the urge to flee and desperately look around, but of course there's nowhere to go. 

Finally you can understand what the voice is saying and it makes you chill even more:

"This one. To the barrels."

Creaking, a clang, dragging. Steps. 

"This one."

Creaking, a clang, dragging. Steps.

"This one."

You crawl backwards as far away from the door as you can. It's futile but what are you supposed to do? 

"This one."

You note there are in fact more voices, though only one speaks loudly enough for you to understand. Her voice almost booms through the halls, even though she isn't shouting her orders. The other voices are hushed, answering as a unified whisper. 

Finally your cell opens. Shadowy hands pull at the door and you hold your breath and stare. Then she comes into view. She's tall, taller than any person you know. Her skin makes you think of porcelain, but her eyes gleam golden and unblinking. Her long flowy dress is only a shade darker than her cheeks. The front drapes together in line with her sillhouette, and it stretches her figure even more. A large black hat, a diamond necklace, and brown leather gloves give her a semblence to a starlet from a 50s movie.

When she turns to you your breath hitches. She holds your gaze for a few seconds and you cannot read her expression. She's staring at you, through you. It's like she's drawing you in and you cannot move. Then her lips stretch into a sinister grin.

"This one's awake." she says. Her smile fades and she turns around. "Why is this one awake?" She's angry, but you don't know why. 

You hear hasty whispering, several voices interrupting each other until she turns back to you.

"No matter. Take this one as well. To the barrels."

You want to protest but cannot find your voice. You want to run away but your knees are weak. You can't even push yourself off the ground when three figures manifest themselves from mist to person in front of you. Now they almost look like women, perhaps about your age. Perhaps triplets. Their dark robes are soaked in old blood and with horror you note the same stains around their lips as well. Hooded creatures reaching out.

"This one's awake." one says. 

"Take her." repeats another.

"To the barrels." says the third.

Before you can register what's happening you feel one of them pulling at your feet. 

"Come." she says. Her voice shifting from clearly audible to haunting echo. 

The back of your head hits the ground and you're being dragged out the door. In a foolish reflex you grab the metal bars as you pass them and the pull at your feet stops. The creature shakes her head in irritation, then starts pulling harder. 

"No." you finally cry out. "No!"

This is not how it was supposed to happen. This is not how you had imagined it to pan out when you left that train. One last trip. That's all you wanted. One last chance to see the world before the virus could take the rest of it away. 

"No!. Please stop!" you try again, but the pull is relentless and your fingers quickly lose their halt. One last tug and your head bumps into the ground once more. The candle light disappears and your eyes have a hard time adjusting to the darkness as you're being dragged over the hard stone floor. Your head hurts. Your back hurts. Your fingers hurt. You clench your jaw. Think! Think!

In a last ditch attempt you direct your plea not to the shadows pulling at your feet, but at the giant woman just out of your sight. 

"My lady!"

What an odd way to address a person. You don't know why that fell out of your mouth, and as the dragging continues your hope dissolves. You have no idea what they're going to do with you, but kindness is not something you expect.

"Wait."

The shadows stop, but don't let go. You look down to your feet and they're staring past you to what must be the woman approaching. Then she's right above you, stares again with that stone cold expression. She might be a statue, or a ghost. She parts her lips and you clearly see the tips of her canines. They're longer than yours. Unnaturally so. They make you think of fangs. 

She licks them with the tip of her tongue, then turns to the figures:

"I've changed my mind. This one I have different plans for. Patch her up, and bring her to my chambers."

Perhaps this is better than whatever awaited you at the barrels. But looking up at her as she shoots you a last grin before she steps away you doubt that a better outcome is what she's got in store for you. 

The grip around your ankles holds tight and you look down to see if they're letting you stand up. They don't. Instead your head hits the floor once again and the dragging continues.

"Oof." you huff, because this time actually hurt. 

"To the chambers?" one shadow wonders out loud. "What's mother going to do with you?"

"Maybe something interesting." the second answers.

"Maybe something fun." the third suggests.

They giggle and you wish you could faint. Mother? You watched your neighborhood dwindle as people were getting sick from the virus. Some mutated and killed their families. Others were taken by authorities. An imagine of the neighbor's boy being shot by an officer flashes through your mind, but you push it away. Gruesome, but you never saw anything like the three pulling at you. 

"Oh, and do take care that you don't break her on the way up." the voice behind you says calmly. "I should like her in one piece."

That sounds oddly reassuring. At least you're going to live. For now.  
At last your feet come free and you're urged to stand up. 

"Fragile human." a voice scoffs too close to your ear. 

"I'll take you."

She grabs you by the arm instead as the other two hurry to follow their mother down the hall. She's still not gentle, but she makes sure not to leave any marks. When you reach a heavy wooden door the rythm from before starts anew, but at a distance:

"This one."

With a thud the door closes behind you and you're quickly being led up stone stairs. You must have been in a cellar, and judging from the size of the halls, it cannot be a regular house you're in. How did you get here? 

You took a train from Germany to Romania, because you have a relative there and perhaps she'd made it through. You also heard that infection rates were lower, but if you're still in Romania that must have been a lie. Either that or you're extremely unlucky to end up in the dungeons of the only turned people here. At least that's what you think this is. 

You remember getting off of the train and regretting taking this journey in the winter. Unfortunately your food reserves at home had gone low. You wouldn't have made it through the season anyway. 

Then you remember the fangs and almost have to laugh. Romania, and you land in the dungeon of a family of vampires. Wouldn't that just be a way to go. 

You swallow that thought as your jouney upstairs comes to an abrupt halt. You're standing in front of the door that must lead to the ground floor. But the figure beside you hesitates.

In an almost regular human voice she says: "I don't think I can let you see the house. You might attempt an escape if you remember the way."

You don't have time to respond, and what were you going to say anyway? Of course you'd plan your escape route. And of course she pulls off the hood of her cape and puts it backwards over your head. She wraps it with something to hold it in place and just like that it's dark again. But in the brief moment before you could see her: A woman indeed about your age, pale skin like her mother, but stained with blood. Her blonde hair comes down to her shoulders. She's slender, and her eyes are blue. She inherited her mother's wicked grin.

It feels like forever that you stumble onwards. It's cold everywhere you go and you really wish you had your jacket.

"Can I have my jacket?" you ask. "I'm cold."

It probably doesn't matter long term but the lady did say she wants you in one peace. One frozen piece surely doesn't count?

The question earns you a low, scary chuckle. "Humans are so fragile." She does seem to be hung up on that concept. 

"Are you not freezing?" you ask, suddenly feeling a little bolder despite her dragging you by the elbow through the darkness.

She only laughs.

You count five doors before you reach your destination. She closes the door and you hear the distinct sound of a lock click in place before she removes your hood and reattaches it on her own cape.

You find yourself in a large rectangle bedroom. 50 square metres or so. The carpet is soft beneath your feet, blood red with golden ornaments woven into the edges.

"You should take off your shoes." the woman says. "Mother doesn't like it when her things get dirty." 

Dutifully you bend down to undo the laces off your thick winter boots. You glance over the floor and are somewhat relieved that you don't seem to have dragged any mud in here. 

Then you turn around and come to face the largest bed you have ever seen. At least four metres long it is not something you would find in a regular furniture store. The cushions appear to be beige or dark white (you were never good with naming colors), but the duvet has a shine to it that makes you think of satin. The head of the bed rests against a wall with four victorian style windows. Colorful glass, though partially obscured by metal grits. Does the lady of the house not want anything to escape or is this to keep things out? You shudder at both possibilities. 

To your left you see a dresser with a cushioned armchair and a vanity mirror. A double door wardrobe next to it might be made from mahogany. On your right in the corner there's a lounge sofa that is a shade lighter than the carpet with black cushions and a table that matches the wardrobe in color. 

"You will have time to get accustomed to her chambers." the woman behind you says. She picks up your boots and places them next to the door. "I will be right back."

She vanishes before you can say anything, and is back just as quickly. It took approximately two blinks and you realise she even passed through the locked door. 

"Sit." she orders.

You take a step back towards the bed but stop yourself. You don't feel comfortable sitting down on a stranger's bed. 

But she says: "Go on." So you do. You have to lift yourself a little to be able to sit on the edge, and your feet dangle off the floor. You feel a little like Alice in Wonderland, though you have a suspicion that you might have drunk the wrong potion. 

She approaches you and kneels on the bed next to you. It is only then that you see the first aid kit in her hands. Right. She was supposed to patch you up. 

"You want to be clean for mother. Remember that." she says. 

She goes to work and dabs at the wound at your temple. It stings when she touches your wound. She's using alcohol. Apparently you really aren't supposed to die. 

When you want to thank her she grabs your face and turns it to inspect it from all angles. 

"Any more wounds? Anything that hurts?" she asks genuinely.

You want to say that everything hurts a little, especially the places her nails are digging into, but instead you shake your head, still clenched in her grip. She's squeezing your cheeks.

"Good. No need to bandage that scratch. It will heal quickly."

Satisfied with her work she gets up. Just as you attempt to follow she pushes you back down. 

"You wait." she says. "Mother will be here soon." You don't think it is supposed to sound like a threat, but still you stiffen. What is she going to do with you? Perhaps death would have been the kinder option.

The woman turns to leave, but halts in front of the door. 

"My name is Daniela." she says. With a whoosh she's gone and you sit there in the large room like a doll put on the shelf. Your head still stings at the temple and on the back where you hit it. You're cold in your jeans and sweater. You're hungry, too. How long has it been? You pull your knees up and wrap your arms around them. The door is locked, the windows are barred, and your curiosity isn't strong enough to look through the Lady's drawers. So you sit there and you wait, thinking of a tall figure picking out unconscious prisoners to be sent to the barrels.


	2. An Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please always be kind to one another. 
> 
> This has nothing to do with the chapter.

You have no idea how long you waited, but your vision blurred a couple of times from staring at the same spot on the wall for too long. The sun set as well, and you're feeling a little sick from hunger. You fight the urge to lie down, however, unwilling to be caught off guard. 

Then you finally hear the lock click and the door opens. Instinctively you lean back away from the door, supporting yourself with both hands. She steps into the room head first, and actually has to bend down a little to pass the frame. Lady Dimitrescu closes the door behind herself and instantly looks down at you. Obviously pleased to find you sitting where you were left she shoots you a toothy grin. There they are again: those fangs, and those amber eyes. You think of a predator, a tigress maybe. Magnificent beauty, and terrible horror united in one person.

"There you are." Her voice makes you shiver. Though oddly cheerful, it has a regal ring to it, like every word constitutes an order. Some people are just like that: born into authority, and in charge of everything they come into contact with.

She takes a step towards you and eyes you up. 

"Let me take a look at you." she says and you don't dare flinch when she reaches for your face. Just like Daniela before she grabs your chin and squeezes your cheeks, turns your head to each side to inspect it from all angles. 

"You're pretty enough, I suppose. You will do." 

Apparently that wasn't weird enough, because she bends down next, still holding tight to your face, and pushes her nose into your cheek, then your neck. She inhales deeply then does it again. Her face touches your shoulder, then the other side of your neck. She's warm contrary to your expectations. She smells your hair then looks at you once more.

"You don't smell quite right, however. We will have to rectify that."

What a way to make you feel self conscious. She lets go off you and as she turns around you bend down to smell your armpit. Sure, you could use a bath but that's not exactly your fault, is it.

"You weren't supposed to be awake, but perhaps it was my luck as well as yours." she says into the room. She's not looking at you, clearly occupied with her thoughts. 

"I need someone to take care of.... well, whatever it is that I desire at any given moment. I will tell you what you are to do. But first", she turns back around to eye you up once more. "You will need a change of clothes. And I detest the smell of stomach acid. We should get you something to eat. Daniela!"

She raises her voice to shout that name, and you hardly have time to duck out of shock, because just like that Daniela is back. You didn't see her enter, but now she's standing there, bowing her head slightly. "Yes, mother?" 

"Get the human something to eat, but bring it to me. And some clothes from the chest. Underwear", Your face flares hot red. Surely you cannot smell that badly. "A fresh pair of socks, trousers, and a shirt. Oh, and a pair of slippers and a towel."

"Yes, mother." 

She's gone again in a heartbeat.

"I actually have clothes in my backpack." you hear yourself say, and regret your words immediately as the lady's gaze locks on you again. Those unblinking eyes bore right through you and you get the distinct feeling that all attempts to talk back will be treated as a punishable offense. Perhaps punishable by death. Or worse.

You swallow hard, and add "My apologies." before lowering your head and staring at your feet. 

"Oh, no no no." She's furious. She grabs your chin once more and forces you to look at her. "You look at me when I talk to you." she says. "I value manners." 

"Of course." you agree, but apparently it's not enough. She squeezes tighter and shows off the tip of her fangs for a split second. Just enough to put you in your place. 

"Yes, my lady." she says pointedly. "Say it."

"Yes, my lady." you repeat a little too quickly.

She pauses. "This is how you will address me. Either this, or Lady Dimitrescu. Say it again."

"Yes, my lady." you force out. She scoffs.

"I believe you can do better. Go on. I don't have all day."

The glint in her eyes indicates it's time for you to swallow your dignity and put some conviction into your words. You breathe in and do your best to sound like you mean it:

"Yes, Lady Dimitrescu."

She pauses again, weighing the words against what she wanted to hear. 

"Good girl." she says, satisfied for now. "It's a start. Listen, and don't forget my lessons because I will not repeat myself." 

Finally she lets go off your face. You want to cry but get the feeling this will just anger her more. So you swallow your tears.

"Yes, my lady." you say, rubbing your cheek where her fingers pressed into it.

"You don't have a backpack." she points out, never dropping her gaze. You furrow your eyebrows and for a split second you want to protest, but stop yourself just in time.

"Yes, my lady." you say instead. "I don't have a backpack." This is going to be a very long evening. 

"You do not have anything." she tells you. "Say it."

"I do not have anything." you repeat, hoping she won't be able to detect your doubts.

"You will wear what I give you. You will eat what I give you. You will sleep in my room. You will go where I go, except if I send you away for a task."

"Yes, my lady."

She breathes in, and why does it sound like she's losing her nerve? 

"Daniela!" she shouts and you duck your head like she's going to throw something at you.

Daniela appears with a steaming bowl of rice in hand. "I'm sorry, mother. There has been an incident with..." she looks to you before finishing her statment but not the sentence: "Maria and Vivienne are taking care of it. Here's the food." She hands the bowl to Lady Dimitrescu and whooshes away. You wish she would stop doing that, and from the look on the Lady's face she does as well. 

Not two seconds later Daniela is back with a stack of clothing which she puts on the bed next to you. She regards you briefly then looks up to the Lady. "Will this one stay with us then?" she asks.

Lady Dimitrescu sighs and says, a little softer now: "We will see, Daniela. Go help your sisters." 

"Yes, mother." And she's gone again.

Lady Dimitrescu sighs again, staring at a spot in front of her before turning back to you. 

"It's hard to take in lessons on an empty stomach." she says, but it doesn't sound kind. Like a machine needing an oil change you'll be fed and you will work.

You expect her to hand you the bowl of rice, but instead she goes to the lounge sofa and sits down. Then she pats the spot next to her. 

You're getting up, but you hesitated just a moment too long while pondering if she means what it seems like.

Through gritted teeth she almost hisses: "I'll let it slide this one time. I'm not forgiving when it comes to transgressions. Do what I tell you, at all times. And immediately."

"Yes, my lady." you say as you almost stumble in an effort to leap across the room to the sofa. You're terrified of being so close to her but she made it clear that you don't have an alternative. You climb on the sofa and sit down to her right. She corrects you by putting her hand around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Here." She finally hands you the bowl. "You will need your strength, so eat up."

"Yes, my lady." you say and reach for the spoon, before quickly adding: "Thank you."

"Hm." she nods in approval and your shoulders relax a little. You've done something right and she's rewarding you with a small smile.

She inches even closer. Her body is pressing against the full length of yours, and she's looking at you expectantly. 

You take a quick look at the rice and find tomatoes and onions in there, nothing suspicious, so you make it a point to hastily shove the first spoonful into your mouth. The proximity to Lady Dimitrescu is uncomfortable at best. You have to take the spoon into the other hand because your left arm is locked in place where she presses against you. With dark eyes she's watching you eat like a lioness observing her prey, though you dread to think of what happens once you're done. 

You take five spoonfuls or so before she starts to push her nose into your neck again. You shudder at the contact and find that the way she nuzzles you is odd and creepy but not entirely unpleasant. She's careful, almost playful. And you feel her smile against your neck. It makes the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Much better already." she finally murmurs into your ear. Her sultry voice sends a shiver down your spine, but you focus on the rice instead. If you're being honest, you're still starving, so you ignore the physical confinement you're in as best as possible and chew down one spoonful after another until the bowl is finally empty.

She takes the bowl from you and you almost expect Daniela to show up out of nowhere to take it away. Instead Lady Dimitrescu sets it down on the table in front of her.

"With a little bit of training", she says "I think you will fit into the house." Like a furniture.

You're not sure if that's a compliment, but answer "Thank you, my lady." anyway. 

"Hm." she nods again. "Now, tell me your name. I will have to call you something after all."

"Yuno, my lady." 

She thinks on it for a second. 

"Yuno." she repeats. "That will do. Now get changed, and be swift. There's so much I must teach you before you can start your chores."

You get up quickly, not wanting to repeat your mistake from before. You glance at the pile of clothes on the bed and make your way towards them. It's thin cotton, a dark white all of it. Servants clothes most likely. You don't dare wonder who wore them last. 

"Daniela will lay down a fresh pile each day." Lady Dimitrescu tells you from her spot on the sofa. "If you made a mess tell me before entering my chambers. I will have one of my daughters get you a change of clothing. Do not address them directly. You only talk to me."

"Yes, my lady." It almost comes out as a reflex and you're annoyed at how easily she manipulated you into obedience. You're also annoyed at the implication you might soil yourself. That's what it sounded like at least. Then you realise you still haven't started changing, though you're also aware of her staring at you.

Slowly you peal yourself out of your jeans and socks. You pull your sweater over your head, then fold all items neatly and place them on the bed. You don't think you're going to see them again. The Lady Dimitrescu doesn't say a word but you feel her looking at you as you take off your shirt and stand there in just your underpants. You turn your back to her and of course hear her clear her throat. 

You grit your teeth and take another breath. Your hands tremble when you turn to face her as you take off the last piece of clothing and you flush when her eyes go wide for the briefest of moments. She's enjoying herself at your expense, but you cannot tell whether she likes what she sees or if she simply wants to see you squirm.

"Good girl." she says. "Now get dressed before you catch a cold." 

You do as you're told. The fabric feels soft on your skin, but not very warm. And your shirt barely conceils anything. She notices. 

"We should do something about that. You're no good to me sick." She shoots you another look before adding: "Though I do like this on you."

"Yes, my lady." You hate saying the words over and over, but the way she nods at you each time signals that you cannot stop.

You put on the slippers, and she says: "I'm going to take care of you as long as I have use for you. So do make sure to take good care of me as well." She shoots you a telling grin that makes your answer get stuck in your throat. She doesn't add anything, however and it makes you wonder what it is that she could want from you. 

Then you remember how she watched you change. The way she worded her orders makes you pause as well and you still feel the echoes of her breath on your neck. She called you pretty, too. 

She catches you staring at her and scoffs. 

"Don't flatter yourself."

You swear you feel your face burn up. Still, she doesn't tell you what you are to do and just looks at you like you're supposed to guess. Maybe she does like to see you squirm.

"My lady, if I may ask. What will you have me do then?" And like a naive fool who has watched too many netflix shows you add: "Am I to be your pet?"

She stares at you blankly for a moment, then bursts into laughter. It's not sinister or mocking, either. She laughs and she holds her belly and laughs even more until she has trouble breathing and reaches up to wipe away a tear. You stand there and try not to move or even blink. 

"A pet?" she asks, still chuckling. "I will show you my pets."


	3. Pets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Alcina's height: Imagine the top of your head ca 2 inches below her underboob. That's where this story puts you.

With swift but not urgent steps she walks through the halls of her gigantic mansion. Every few seconds you have to jog a little to keep up. This barely gives you time to take in your surroundings, but everywhere you look you see gold and blood red. Her heels click on marble floors and their echoes seem to go endlessly. You can never quite see the end of each hall before she turns a corner and leads you into an even bigger one. There are paintings staring at you from the walls. Golden frames, of course. Grotesque pictures of rabbits eating a human hand, or the roots of a large tree reaching up to suffocate a bear. Still, not quite as disturbing as the series of crying children that your aunt used to collect. You're overwhelmed by impressions and still she hurries forward. 

Down a spiral of stairs, each step so big you are tempted to jump but manage to walk just so. She would probably scold you. Or laugh. Or both. Lady Dimitrescu walks like someone who knows she's dangerous. She barely so watches where she puts her foot, surely because whatever is in her way will make space for her. You note the absense of servants or help, anyone to maintain the household. Perhaps they are ordered to stay out of sight. Some rich people don't want to be reminded that the house doesn't clean itself. Some simply don't want to look at someone lesser than themselves. 

You also somewhat gratefully note the absence of whispers and shadow creatures lurking about. Apparently her daughters are currently otherwise occupied. 

You arrive at the lowest step of the staircase and Lady Dimitrescu stops abruptly. You manage to come to a halt just in time.

"No. No. No. That won't do." 

You can't tell if she's genuinely annoyed, with you or something else. She turns around and addresses you directly. You gulp and tense up as her amber eyes lock on you. You've made her angry, but how?

"You are to stay with me at all times. I told you. I'm not telling you again."

A little confused you furrow your brows.

"My lady", you start your deflection but she waves you off. 

"I cannot occupy myself with ensuring that you're still here every two seconds." she says like that would make it more obvious what you did wrong. Aren't you standing right in front of her?

She grabs your left hand and puts it on her right hip. She's not very gentle and pulls you forward two steps. You feel your shoulder stretch but keep yourself from wincing.

"You will keep your hand here from now on. I can't have you slacking behind. One arm's length. That's what you get. For now."

Without a warning she swivels and continues her walk, and of course it makes your hand snap lose. You weren't prepared, but know better than to hesitate. You sprint after her, arm reaching out, but it's not enough. She stops again, and now she furious.

"Are you daft?" It's not a question and you have a feeling that there isn't a good answer, either. You simply reach out as quickly as you can and place your palm on her hip again. 

"I'm sorry." you try. She doesn't move, doesn't blink. Just looks at you until some of her anger seems to dissipate. Perhaps she understands that you didn't mean to upset her, though you didn't think she'd care. Then she smirks, a shallow dimple on her left cheek.

"If this is too uncomfortable", she finally says. "We can try a leash instead. Would you like that? You did mention you want to be treated like a pet."

She looks at you expectantly, so you say: "No, my lady. It was a mistake. It won't happen again."

And just to be sure you grab some of the frabric below your fingers. It's not lost on you what this must look like, you clinging to her skirt. It's pathetic, but what are you to do. You hold on to dear life as she once again turns to walk. 

She leads you past the main entrance and apparently unlike Daniela she doesn't mind you memorising the way. With you quite literally being attached to her hip and her leading you all the way there is no need for her to worry. Another thought unsettles you, because someone so sure knows how to prevent you from leaving.

You don't open the heavy wooden double doors that you figure would lead to the front yard. Instead you take a turn left through a relatively small study and towards a side entrance. This one stands out, because it is cosiderably smaller than the other doors you've come across. Perhaps two metres high, just enough for a regular human, a little too small for Lady Dimitrescu. She slows down and ducks her head to lead you through the door. Her hat grazes the frame and flops back in place on the other side.

You find yourself outside on her premises. It's dark and foggy, but the snow has melted away. When you arrived in Romania you had to make you way through icy rain and with the first sunset that turned to snow. Just enough to make you have to watch your step in order not to slip.

Now, there's no rain, only wind; you will absolutely develop a cold if you don't get to wear something warmer very soon, but you don't dare remind the Lady. Instead you focus to keep up with her pace as she drags you forward.

Neatly trimmed square shaped hedges form a path straight ahead to a green crossroad. You stretch your neck but without jumping you won't be able to look over. In the far distance to the right you just make out the tower of what looks to be a church. Surely this must be the village you came from? 

Lady Dimitrescu never stops, speeding to the left along a path parallel to the mansion wall. From the outside it seems even larger, and still you don't recall coming here. You also don't recall seeing this building from afar. No, you couldn't have been in the vicinity. 

You shudder when a stronger breeze makes your shirt flutter, but hold fast to the Lady's skirt. Your fingers may tremble but your resolve is stronger than it has been in a while. Your heart beats fast when you look up to the Lady. She's a good meter taller than you and the giant hat throws a shadow over her eyes. Yet, there's something alluring about her, something you cannot quite put your finger on. 

She shakes you from your thoughts by grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. You cannot suppress a quiet "Ow" this time. It's a reflex, but what tumbles out your mouth next is not: "I can walk, you know." You're beginning to be slightly annoyed with her pulling and pushing you around. You don't particularly like being touched. You absolutely loathe being manhandled. 

You realise your mistake too late. She pushes you with one palm on your back in front of herself. She's strong. Stronger than you. You stumble and almost fall forward, and she didn't even push that hard. She's holding back. "You've yet to prove that to me." she says cooly. "Not here a day and already you think you can talk back to me?"

"No, my lady." you rush to say, but she's not listening.

"From now on", she says. "I'm giving you choices. You can do the smart thing and be good. Or we can do this the hard way." 

She's pushing you forward once more, a little harder this time. It sends you two steps forward. She closes the distance and does it again. And once more, each time waiting to see your reaction. When she does it again you feel a knot building in your throat. You bite back tears when she places her palm on your back again. She doesn't push this time, however, just rests her palm there. 

"Good girl." she says. "Remember this lesson well."

It's no use, so you don't turn around and instead repeat the words she's taught you earlier: "Yes, my lady." 

Gently now, she leads you further with her palm pressing between your shoulder blades. "We're here." she says.

Finally you look up to see the outside of a stable, though it's unusually made of some kind of dark metal and completely closed off. You only recognise its purpose by the sign next to it. A door opens with a squeak and a man about ten years older than you steps out. Pale skin but dark hair. He's wearing thick brown trousers and black rubber boots. A beige cotton shirt and a matching jacket. He's not looking at you when he slightly bows to Lady Dimitrescu, but you can see his blue eyes and a deep scar across his right cheek. It looks like an old cut.

He picks up a shovel that was leaning against the outside wall and turns to go back in. "Worker." the Lady stops him. "This is Yuno and it will be her task to feed the hounds from now on. Show her the way and send her back up when you're done."

He bows again and holds open the door expectantly. Hesitantly you look up to your left.

"My lady?" you try and she nods. "Hm. It's alright. You go on. I'll be in my chambers later tonight."

She lets go off you and instead of relief you feel strangely lost. You watch her leave the direction you came from and a part of you almost wishes you could go with her. Probably the part of you that heard the word hounds and how you'll have to care for them.

You turn around and see the man still holding up the door for you. "Sorry." you say, now finally relieved you can talk to a person on eye level again. The room behind the door is pitch black but you walk past the guy regardless. Sure enough, he follows you, picking up an oil lantern that was standing to the side of the entrance.

"During the day we got light in here, but the Lady's pets are sleeping. Best not disturb them." He says in a low voice.

"What's your name?" you ask and he stops. The darkness makes it hard to see his face but his confusion is palpable regardless. He looks at you for a few long moments, then says: "You can not talk to me. The Lady must have told you."

Did she do that? "No", you reply carefully. "She said not to talk to her daughters. I didn't even know there are other people here. I mean, regular people."

His face remains frozen in what can easily be interpreted as horrified. Then he grins, dimples and everything. Then he chuckles, a high pitched, unpleasant sound that makes you think of a dying bird.

"I can see why you're still around. Congratulations. Not many of the Lady's toys make it through the first night, but you? You might just stand a chance."

Now you're the one confused. "Excuse me?" But he just chuckles again.

"You keep up that spiel and you might outlive us all. Seriously, though. You can't talk to me or anybody you might encounter. Not unless the Lady permits it explicitly. We have rules here."

The change in his tone makes you gulp. You have gotten just a small taste of what happens when the Lady is displeased with you. You're not going to risk outright disobeying her demands. 

Silently you follow the man with the lantern deeper into the stables. He lowers his voice when you reach a row of bars, not unlike those of the cell you found yourself in when you woke up, though considerably thicker. 

In an attempt to see you edge closer to the bars, only to be pulled back by the nameless man. 

"Don't get to close. Only the Lady can touch them. They will bite your hands off."

It's only now that you hear the snoring sounds coming from inside. Could be dogs by the sound of it. Maybe three of them. 

He holds up the lantern to shine some dim light into the cage and though you don't see much, what you do see almost makes your heart stop: Fur, black and unkempt. A paw easily the size of your head with claws sharp and dirty, each one longer than your fingers. The man shakes the lantern a little and you count two, three, four giant heads with snouts the size of a small rock. The shadows still obscure most, but those are not dogs. Instinctively you leap two steps back. 

"You'll get used to them." the man says. It occurs to you that you still don't know his name, though what would knowing that be good for if you can't address him anyway? It also occurs to you that you are going to come here very frequently if you're going to feed the monsters in that cage, and that if just a small glimpse makes you shudder you don't want to know what they look like in broad daylight. Less scary probably, you decide to keep your heartrate down. Everything is less scary in broad daylight.

You hear the man next to you chuckle again. "Come." he says, and you follow obediently into the far corner of the room. "It's not a hard task she gave you. I'm the one shoveling dirt around here. You're just pulling a lever."

You open your mouth to ask but think better of it. He shows off a dimple in the cheek without scar, and nods. "Every morning before the Lady gets up you will come here and pull this lever." He holds up the lantern and lights a thick metal lever on the wall. "Sometimes you have to give it a little more of a tug, but if it's truly stuck I'll fix it. The lever opens a hatch in the cage. They're mostly fed left overs. It's not a pleasant sight, but it's part of the job. Hounds need to eat, too." He shrugs and you push away that sinking feeling in your stomach.

"That's pretty much it. I'll be here in the morning as well. Now hurry off and don't keep her waiting."

He leads you back out and points the way. You look where he aims to the mansion's entrance, but can't help and turn your head towards the other direction away from the premises. You'll be here on your own in the morning. Before the Lady gets up, he said, so she'll be asleep. You don't know how far the premises go but surely you're bound to bump into someone who can help you eventually. 

"You can try." the guy says behind you, obviously aware of your train of thoughts. "You can certainly try. Others have. I wouldn't." You turn around and he points his chin at you. "Go on." he says and returns into the stables. The door closes with a squeak and you're standing alone outside. 

What a day. 

You're still trying to make sense of what happened. You remember the train station, getting something to eat from a stand nearby. Was it fries? 

You checked into a hostel, small, just your price range, but the woman at the counter seemed nice enough. You remember going to bed, but you do not recall waking up there.

You chew on your lip as you take the first steps towards the mansion. You're still freezing. Even if you were to run you'd just catch hypothermia and die anyway. You decide that maybe the morning will bring a better opportunity, when the Lady will be asleep, and you may have gotten your hands on a jacket. 

Just as you finish that thought you hear the dreaded whispers from the shadows again and opt to hustle towards the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pictures of crying children are an homage to my childhood friend's grandmother who did have such a collection. It was.... unsettling to walk upstairs to my friend's room.


End file.
